Predictions
by TolkienGirl
Summary: "My dear Thorin," said the wizard, with a cough that was half a laugh, "If I could only tell of the Dwarvish wagers I might have taken in my time…no, my friend, a few pieces of your comrades' gold are insufficient to shake my faith in Mr. Baggins." (The morning of the journey, Bilbo's fate is still in question. Gandalf, Thorin, with bits of Fili, Kili, Balin and hobbits-NO SLASH)


**A/N: Started this a while ago, finished it just now. **

**Disclaimer: Tolkien's brilliance, my admiration.**

**Reviews are better than Smaug's treasure :)**

"It's right strange, is wot it is."

There was a rumble of assent from around the table, and a few significant squints were directed towards the far corner of the room.

"Dwarves," said one of the younger of the group, mouthing the word wonderingly. "What brings _dwarves_ to these parts?"

The oldest (and fattest) of the assembled hobbits took a large, foreboding mouthful of seedcake before answering. "It's Old Gandalf's doing, plain as day."

Necks craned to "take a gander" at the mysterious, cloaked figure who sat among the company of dwarves and who seemed, even when his bright, deepset eyes were not observing the room, to be amused at everyone and everything breakfasting at the Green Dragon.

The old one spoke again after a pause which allowed for hushed anticipation on the part of his followers, and a hearty swallow on his.

"He's an odd fellow. Always comes 'round these parts with fireworks…or worse."

There was another silence. No one knew what this "worse" was…including the old hobbit.

However, he was not one to allow such a small matter as ignorance affect his stand as naysayer. "And now dwarves," he added lugubriously.

Again, the word was passed from lip to lip in fascination and reproof:

_"Dwarves_."

Dwarves indeed were there—a full thirteen of them, blissfully unaware (or at any rate, uncaring) of the discomfort their presence caused.

They had supped well at Mr. Baggins' the night before, but that was near-forgot at the prospect of a hearty breakfast.

"Another round of ale!" cried Kili, with a sweep of his arm to invite the attention of the barkeep. He wilted under his uncle's stern glance. "We've a long ride ahead, Kili. I'll not be slowed by sluggishness."

"It's only a flagon," Kili pleaded, but Fili nudged him.

"Your _third_. Wake up, brother. That Hobbit barmaid won't spare you a glance no matter how many ales you beg off her." He tugged teasingly at a lock of Kili's hair. "She only has eyes for _me_."

Kili punched him in the shoulder, and an innocent jug of milk nearly met its end.

Balin gave them a long look. "I'd not tempt your uncle, lads," he murmured, before the thundercloud on Thorin's brow could darken. "Eat your breakfast. And then both of you—a letter to your mother. I won't face the wrath of Dis, if I can help it."

Slightly chastened, the brothers settled back against the long bench. There was a momentary lull, and then Thorin shifted towards Gandalf. "The sun is climbing the sky."

The wizard let a smoke ring waft from his pipe before answering. "He'll come."

"So you say." Thorin's gaze was skeptical. "But you've half-a-dozen wagers against you." He gestured towards the table, where small stacks of coins were being counted out amid much laughter.

"My dear Thorin," said the wizard, with a cough that was half a laugh, "If I could only tell of the Dwarvish wagers I might have taken in my time…no, my friend, a few pieces of your comrades' gold are insufficient to shake my faith in Mr. Baggins."

"Faith?" Thorin's voice grew graver still. "My quest is desperate, Gandalf—long and hard and thankless. Mayhap it ends in blood…mine, I pray, before others." His eyes flickered towards his nephews, then returned to the wizard's inscrutable features. "A mad cause, I own, but not a foolish one. Nor will I have it made so. Your halfing is of a simple kind—without a lineage to fight for, without honor to protect."

Gandalf shook his head, setting aside his pipe. "Mad," he said slowly. "Mad indeed would you be, Thorin Oakenshield, and foolish, too, if you dismiss the simple kindness and quiet courage of these folk. You speak of honor, and of lineage, but you forget the honor of those who fight to save that which they do not seek to claim."

"You have an artful tongue, as always," said Thorin. "And if what you say is true, and this Hobbit proves brave, then I will trust the artfulness of your choosing also. But make haste. It is past the mark of ten."

"I shall," agreed the wizard. "Perhaps there is one more little push needed, to get him out of the door."

"We leave before the hour," said Thorin. "There are other burglars."

The wizard rose, grasping his staff and making for the door of the inn. He paused with one long hand against the latch and spoke once more. "There are certainly others. But there is only one Bilbo Baggins."

Thorin heard the hoofbeats ring in his ears long after they had passed over the cobbles of the street.


End file.
